


hard to be soft, tough to be tender

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, but like soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: “A romantic like you, I’d have thought it’d be daydreams about kissing me,” Shane says, taking the joint from Ryan’s fingers and leaning up so he can take the last hit before stubbing it out on the tray. He blows the smoke out, blinking lazily, slumping against Ryan’s body when he beckons.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 47
Kudos: 302
Collections: Daddy Month





	hard to be soft, tough to be tender

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!! this is for the bookclub's daddy month. thanks to [levy](https://queerunsolved.tumblr.com) for the beta, love u. 
> 
> title from a metric's "help, i'm alive". 
> 
> enjoy!

Some nights, too few and far in between, Shane will wander through the streets of Los Angeles late at night. He’ll find himself at Ryan’s door, always invited in because Ryan’s always awake. 

Tonight, they’ve pushed the furniture out of the way, laid out some blankets; it’s not quite a blanket fort, but all they’d need is a duvet overhead, thrown over the backs of Ryan’s worn dining room chairs. 

The sliding glass doors are open, and the ceiling light is off. There’s only one lamp lit, sitting on the end-table closest to the front door. They’re shrouded in shadows. Los Angeles glimmers, bright and glittery, like the stars have dropped from the sky and seeped within the city, fragments of the sun embedded into buildings like the glossy shine of diamonds. 

Ryan sits with his back against the couch, small, metal tray on top of his lap as he busies himself, tucking in ground up flecks of weed and expertly rolling his joint with deft fingers. It isn’t fascinating, not really—Shane’s been the audience to this show for years. And yet, like a really good song, he can’t help but be enraptured by the sight of it. His breath comes in sharp when Ryan lifts the joint to his mouth and the pink of his tongue swipes, kitten licks along the edge of paper until it’s sealed closed, and Ryan’s looking at him with a grin that makes Shane’s heart sink in his chest before taking off. 

When Ryan blinks, it’s slow, showcasing the length of his eyelashes, the way they kiss the very tops of his cheeks, before his brown eyes steal center stage, luminous and sunlit, despite it being the very middle of the night. 

“Light it for me,” Ryan says, passing the joint to Shane and the lighter. 

Setting the joint between his lips, Shane lights it, watching the orange flame lick the end before catching, turning paper to ash. Shane sucks in his hit, tossing the lighter to his side, holding his breath deep in his lungs and closing his eyes. In the momentary disconnect from time and space, where his brain goes hazy, he can feel Ryan next to him; their arms press together, and the heel of Ryan’s foot knocks into his calf. 

When he opens his eyes, Ryan is looking at him. Shane smiles. “Here.” Shane breathes the smoke out towards the ceiling. 

Ryan takes the joint, takes his hit, and Shane can feel the way he disconnects, too. For the rest of the night, it’ll be the two of them, disconnected from everything else but each other. 

“Why’d you come over?” Ryan asks. 

“Bored. Wanted to hang,” Shane says. 

“At one?” Ryan counters. 

“At one,” Shane confirms. 

Ryan hums and passes the joint back. With each back and forth, Shane becomes lighter and lighter, weightless, floaty, stuck somewhere between the hands of time. His mind doesn’t care to comprehend much other than the pungent smell of weed permeating the air of Ryan’s little apartment, the way his arm burns pressed up against Ryan’s, or Ryan’s wheezy little breath as he tries not to cough. 

When the joint is finished, they lay there, and Shane shakes off the want; the need to roll over and catch his hand against the curve of Ryan’s waist, pull him close so he can feel Ryan’s hummingbird heartbeat against his chest; slant his mouth against Ryan’s; taste resin along the plump line of Ryan’s bottom lip. 

For some strange reason, the history they’ve curated in the museum of their friendship always sneaks up on Shane; his mind opens, closing in on Ryan, and all he ever wants to do is add the simple memory of Ryan’s mouth on his to the collection. In the back of Louvre, framed and spotlit, roped off and protected from anyone who could touch it with sticky, dirty hands. 

Preserved. Pristine. 

Like his breath has been stolen, Shane blinks up at the ceiling, swallowing thick. 

Ryan’s fingers creep around his wrist, slowly, until he’s grasping it loosely. Shane turns his head, finds Ryan’s profile with his eyes, traces the slope of his nose, the gentle bow of his lips. 

“You good, or do you want another one?” Ryan asks him, his voice soft, a little sleepy, but Shane knows better. 

“Another,” Shane decides, looking back towards the ceiling. 

“Good. I wanna suck it from your lungs,” Ryan says, words slightly tumbling over each other. Shane looks over at him. Ryan arches an eyebrow. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m just.” Ryan hums. “What’s the point of being this close?” 

Shane smiles, glances at the sliding glass door, through the panes and out, the city winking at him. “I didn’t know there had to be a point.” 

“I want there to be a point.” 

“Roll it and make your point then,” Shane says easily. 

Minutes later, Ryan’s lying on his back against the blankets they’d laid out, and Shane sits on top of him, straddling his narrow hips, knees tucked into Ryan’s waist. Ryan’s got a hand on the back of Shane’s neck, holding him close as he sucks the smoke from Shane’s mouth, his lungs, just like he’d wanted.

“Do you want to know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” Ryan asks, looking up at Shane through his long, dark lashes. His hand falls along the length of Shane’s waist, lifting the fabric enough to touch searing fingertips to Shane’s flesh. All of Shane’s focus drains away and pinpoints to Ryan’s hand on him. He’s only half aware as he entertains Ryan’s question. 

“What?”

“Fucking you.” 

Shane shivers at the sight of Ryan’s stupidly smug smile, lying beneath Shane as he sucks another hit from the joint, blowing the smoke in Shane’s face. Shane doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t get up, or move, or blink. Ryan’s looking at him, though, grinning wide. 

Shane gives fuck all about _Finding Nemo_ , but Ryan’s grin is not the “fish are friends, not food” kind. 

It’s—it’s too much for Shane, Shane who would’ve never said anything about anything. But now he has to say something about anything, or anything about something, something about nothing, because there was nothing between them before this moment. 

Or, at least, Shane pretends as such. Pretends he doesn’t notice the way Ryan looks at him, or the way Ryan touches him, the way Ryan uses his strength to put Shane where Ryan Wants Him. 

Shane shivers again. 

“Been thinking a lot about it. You good for it?” Ryan asks him, squeezing his waist, hand dripping down so he can grip Shane’s hip, his ass. “Do you want it?” 

Shane’s heartbeat thuds against his chest, and he doesn’t like the feeling, wanting so badly for Ryan to lay him out and fuck him. He’s not gone that deep within his desire, hasn’t ever let himself want Ryan this much. But now, he’s dizzied from his heart draining the blood from his brain straight to his dick; he shifts his hips to press himself against Ryan’s belly. 

“A romantic like you, I’d have thought it’d be daydreams about kissing me,” Shane says, taking the joint from Ryan’s fingers and leaning up so he can take the last hit before stubbing it out on the tray. He blows the smoke out, blinking lazily, slumping against Ryan’s body when he beckons. 

“Oh, you want me to kiss you, sweetheart?” Ryan teases. Shane does, yeah, he does, but he doesn’t like Ryan’s _tone_. 

“Not if you’re gonna be—” 

“Shut up, come here,” Ryan says, deciding for him, pulling him down with a strong grip at the back of his neck. Shane fits his mouth to Ryan’s, tastes resin so sweet, right before the wickedness of Ryan’s tongue. Maybe it’s the weed that makes him feel like he’s on fire, like Ryan’s gone underneath his skin and is living between sinews and muscle, has carved hollows in his bones and lives in his marrow. 

It’s probably the weed, but it doesn’t make the heat of Ryan’s lips any cooler, the taste of his mouth any less addictive. Shane grinds down against Ryan, and Ryan’s grip on his hip hurts, but in that good way where he’ll press his own fingers into the bruises tomorrow morning, relive the thrill of being held like this. 

Ryan bites his bottom lip, and Shane groans, heat blooming all over his flesh, underneath the heavy cotton of his tee, underneath the confines of his jeans. Ryan snakes an arm around Shane’s waist and rolls them over, settling between Shane’s thighs, grinding his hips forward _hard_. 

“Jesus Christ,” Shane huffs, winding his arms around Ryan’s shoulders, kissing down his neck and his collarbones, biting at the fabric of his shirt to nip at Ryan’s skin. 

The second Ryan presses his hand to the front of Shane’s pants, Shane grunts, lifting his hips in search of more. And then a thought hits him that’s so intrusive, it spills from his unfiltered brain:

“Has anyone ever called you Daddy while you fucked them?” 

Ryan pulls back and regards him with an arrogant grin. “Why? You wanna?” 

Shane blinks, and then he sighs, “Little bit.” 

Ryan leans down, brushing his mouth against Shane’s, and Shane’s heart jolts in his chest and takes off; Shane doesn’t think it’ll return, not before they’re done anyway. 

“Let me hear it then,” Ryan coaxes gently, his voice sugar-sweet, low, and Shane doesn’t like that he’s so susceptible to it, that it _affects_ him like this. Sure, Ryan’s always had some sort of gravitational pull, and Shane’s always somewhat been like the moon orbiting the earth, but it’s never been like this, where he wants Ryan to _touch_ him like this.

“You haven’t done anything to deserve it yet,” Shane retorts, breathless when Ryan grabs hold of his wrists and pins them down against the floor. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Ryan asks, hovering above him. “You want me to be inside you when you say it, don’t you? Halfway to fucked out, can’t think of anything else to say but that, huh?” Ryan presses himself harder against Shane’s cock, over the thick fabric of his jeans, but he’s so hard it feels like he’s touching his skin. 

“Ryan, _fuck_.” 

“Mhm, in a minute. I wanna get my mouth on you.” 

Shane blows out a hard breath as Ryan slinks down his body, pushing up his t-shirt to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against his sternum, his belly. 

“Is this all about your ‘being small’ shit? You just want someone to get their hands all over you and ruin you, hmm?” Ryan murmurs against his flesh, right above the buckle of his belt. When Shane looks down, Ryan’s eyes are dark, shadowed, and Shane makes a helpless noise, a pleading whine. It’s not confirmation, but he doesn’t feel like answering Ryan’s dirty talk with introspective dissection of his inner workings. 

A beat passes, and Ryan undoes Shane’s belt, making quick work of his fly. Shane lifts his hips so Ryan can drag his pants and underwear down to the middle of his thighs. His cock springs free, settling over his belly, already wet and sticky. 

Sitting back on his heels, Ryan looks down at him, eyes raking all over his body before looking up at him. “Look at you.” 

“ _Ryan_ , please—” 

“Is this what you’re like? All desperate and impatient? Or this all for me?” Ryan asks, leaning forward to kiss him again, all over his belly, the creases of his hips, using his teeth to leave biting stains in his skin. His hands are warm when they pass over the tense flesh of Shane’s thighs.

All Shane can really do is moan softly, a gentle noise that slithers from his throat. When Ryan wraps his hand around him, Shane’s back arches off the floor, and his eyes fall closed. 

“Watch me, babe,” Ryan commands, and Shane does, opening his eyes and focusing on Ryan with rapt attention as Ryan rubs the tip of his cock against his lips, before nearly swallowing him. He’s good, too good—hot and wet—pressured tongue right below the head. Shane groans, trying his best to keep watch, but all he wants to do is fall back and enjoy Ryan’s mouth. 

It’s messy. Ryan’s not concerned, it seems, when he pulls off and there’s a stretched string of saliva that snaps between Ryan’s lips and the tip of Shane’s dick. He reaches his hand forward, swipes his tongue along the curve of Ryan’s bottom lip. 

“I want to ruin you,” Ryan says, calmly, with practiced ease. There’s nothing nervous about the darkness in his eyes, the cocky upturn of his mouth as he flashes Shane a crooked grin. “Wanna watch you fuckin’ fall apart. Wanna hear you beg for it.” 

“Come on, suck me off,” Shane grunts, running his long fingers through Ryan’s fringe, pushing his hair back. Shane tugs at the back of Ryan’s head. 

Ryan’s eyes are even bigger here, looking up the length of Shane’s body as they watch each other. There’s a thrill that sits sharp in Shane’s belly, his thighs tense, holding himself still, even with Ryan’s hand pressing his hips down hard, keeping him down. The slick slide of Ryan’s mouth makes Shane’s head fall back as his mouth curves around a cutting curse. 

Licking up the side, over the head, sucking him down again; Shane feels the back of Ryan’s throat, the flex as Ryan swallows around him. He tugs on Ryan’s hair. 

“Ryan, _Ryan_ , I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” 

“I want you to,” Ryan says, licking his lips. “And then I’m gonna take my time fucking you with my fingers, and when you’re hard again, I’m gonna fuck you stupid.” 

Shane’s head falls back with a dulled thud, and he can hear Ryan laugh at him, low and wicked. 

It doesn’t take much else, not with Ryan’s fingers at the base of his dick, his mouth all over his cock, and his other hand cradling his balls. He comes hard, so his whole body locks and let’s go, spilling into Ryan’s mouth. It tears through his spine and he gasps Ryan’s name.

Ryan kisses up the length of his body until he reaches Shane’s mouth, and Shane’s so hungry for it, he licks into Ryan’s mouth with fervor. He chases the taste of his come on the backs of Ryan’s teeth, the roof of his mouth, the slick of his tongue. Ryan pushes him back down to the ground with a heavy hand, and Shane feels a sharp thrill ride through him. 

“Get naked. I’ll be right back.” 

Ryan stands and leaves the living room, and Shane takes a minute to collect himself, fight through the haze of his high, of his orgasm, and sit up. 

Not at all how he’d imagined the night going. Not at all how he’d ever imagined being with Ryan, and yet, he takes off his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. He pushes off his jeans the rest of the way, taking his socks with them. He lays back down against the blankets, wishing for a cigarette, amusing himself with the thought of Ryan spanking him instead. 

Is this about him wanting to be small? Maybe, partly. It sates that serrated edge somewhat, knowing he doesn’t have to think about anything, knowing he doesn’t have to make the decisions. If Ryan wants something, Ryan will make it happen. He’ll use his hands to situate Shane’s body, use his mouth to quip dirty remarks that will have Shane crawling out of his skin and ascending stairs built for utopian pleasure. 

Maybe it’s the weed, or maybe he’s always wanted this bit, this part, where he’s lying naked in Ryan’s apartment, already fucked out and waiting to be demolished by a man who knows him inside and out, like the back of his hand, cliche after cliche. 

When Ryan comes back, he’s naked, holding lube and condoms. He drops them both to the ground. 

“Jesus.” Shane blows out his breath, semi-frustrated. Even in the soft dim light the one lit lamp offers, Shane’s allowed the entire sight of Ryan and his body, standing tall and confident. He’s got gentle tanlines on his shoulders, a strong chest Shane wants to lay his hands flat on. He’s hard, cock thick and jutting upwards, the head hidden by delicate foreskin. It makes Shane want to scramble up onto his knees and get his mouth on it, push the foreskin back and taste the drip of his precome. 

Ryan grins. 

“You’re stupid,” Shane says, which isn’t what he means, but Ryan laughs anyway. He kneels down, crawling up to Shane, parting Shane’s knees with his waist. He’s hard and hot when he presses his body close. “Dude, you’re, like—people could aptly describe you as sexy. You’re sexy, Ryan.” 

“Quit babbling,” Ryan says.

That, he can do. It’s what he’s good at, but right now, his thoughts are muddled, jumbled, with visceral images of brown skin and toothy grins, and hot hands around his wrists. And for the first time in his life, he wants to _talk_ about it. He wants to let Ryan hear it—God, there’s something about Ryan’s body heavy on top of him, with Ryan’s mouth sucking ruthless bruises into his throat that cracks the cavity of his chest open and fuels this desire to _say_ something about it. 

“Ryan, please.”

“Please what?” Ryan murmurs, grinding his hips forward, dick nestled in the crease of his hip, sticky and slippery. 

“Just—just please. You said you were gonna do something, now you gotta do it.” 

“What, you want my fingers inside you?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Shane confesses in a rush of breath. 

“Like you like this. Want you like this all the time.” Ryan punctuates the shift of his hips with a low groan, dark and deep, vibrating across the flesh of his shoulder. Shane feels it reverberating down his spine, sparking matches in his belly, lighting a fire. His body is responsive, too much so, giving him away when he grapples his hands down Ryan’s back. He’s still so sensitive, his cock twitching between them helplessly as Ryan rocks against him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck yes. I’ve never seen you like this—“ Ryan bites the flesh of his shoulder. “I don’t even fuckin’ know who you are.” 

There’s shame in that, because Shane wants to be known. If there was ever a moment he wanted for Ryan to know him, it’s right now. Something inside him doesn’t want this to be new. He doesn’t want to have to jump over this hurdle, and yet—it’s thrilling, to have Ryan _learn_ him. It feels like they’ve learned all they could, and yet, he’s got Ryan’s uncharted, naked body at his fingertips, and has no fuckin’ clue where he’s going. But he’s got good instincts, and it seems Ryan does, too, because he’s not made a wrong turn yet.

Turns out, Ryan’s good with his hands, attentive, careful, but ruthless in the way he takes Shane apart, piece by meticulous piece. 

Wet fingers drag down the length of his thigh, between them to settle and then slip in. Ryan starts with one, and maybe it’s too soon for it to feel like it isn’t enough, but Shane begs for more anyway. He spreads the width of his legs, shifts his hips, uses his wrecked, whiny voice to say, “I need more, Ryan,” and Ryan gives it to him. Slips in another finger; it doesn’t hurt, but there’s the burn of impatience, the consequence for instant gratification. Ryan said he’d take his time but—

“I can’t wait to feel you on my cock,” he says, a soft awed murmur of his voice. Shane can see Ryan’s eyes focused on what he’s doing, vision dropped low, no doubt watching the slide of his fingers, the way Shane’s stretched around them.

“ _Fuck_ , oh god,” Shane groans, just as Ryan curls his fingers. Shane rolls his hips, reaching between his legs to grab Ryan’s wrist. “Jesus, fuck, I need a minute.” Breathless, he looks at Ryan, sitting back on his heels, cock hard between his thighs, dripping at the tip. 

“Lay down,” Ryan says, with that same ease from earlier, heavy lidded eyes pinning him down, forcing him back. Shane lets go of Ryan’s hand and falls back onto his elbows. “Patience.” 

“Oh, fuck you,” Shane mumbles. 

Ryan grins again. “Alright.” He busies himself with the condom, tearing the foil and tossing it aside, sliding semi-transparent latex down the thick of his uncut cock. If there’s anything Shane regrets, it’s that he didn’t taste it first, didn’t get his mouth on it, all over it. 

Doesn’t matter now, not when Ryan puts his hands on Shane’s hips and drags him forward. Ryan pushes Shane’s thighs back and he feels much too vulnerable, but it doesn’t _matter_ , because Ryan’s hands are strong where they hook right up against the back of his knees. Shane keeps himself up on his elbows, steels himself in anticipation, in preparation, but even then, he knows there isn’t anything that could prepare him for the sight of Ryan holding his own cock and setting it, sinking slowly inside. 

A moment; Ryan’s head falls back as he moans, loud and unashamed, and Shane sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed.

When Ryan’s all the way in, Shane feels split open, like he’s barely held together, so full it’s crushed his lungs and stolen his ability to breathe. He pants, creaky breaths rushing out of his mouth as Ryan drops his hold on his legs and Shane immediately curls them low around Ryan’s hips. Ryan moves over him, leveraging himself with the full extension of his arms. 

Ryan’s body shivers like he can’t take the pause. Like it’s too much for him to be so still while Shane gets used to the thick of him. 

Shane’s hand settles against Ryan’s waist. Ryan mouths over the sweaty flesh of Shane’s shoulders, teeth wicked and sharp, his tongue a soothing bliss when he licks over the marks he’s so intent on making. 

“Fuck, baby,” Ryan mutters, and like he’s decided Shane’s ready for it, he pulls his hips back, and pushes in slowly, and Shane’s heart lurches in his chest, a quick race with no finish line as he feels the heat of Ryan’s cock sliding inside of him, pressing buttons and fraying nerves that make Shane’s head fall back and his mouth drop open to mutter sharp curses. 

“Yes, yes,” Shane breathes, as Ryan drags the heat of his mouth across the slope of Shane’s neck, his throat, hips hitching forward, quick and unforgiving. All Shane can properly think about is Ryan’s body, how much fire he holds underneath his skin, how good he feels when they touch, the raucous sound of their sex at two in the morning. Shane’s not one to be loud, not one to be noisy, but he can’t help himself here. His voice bounces off the walls, sinks into his own flesh, vibrating in his veins every time Ryan fucks in deep. 

“Yes, what?” Ryan coaxes, his tone rough, raw, punctuated with a harsh thrust. 

“Yes, Daddy,” Shane says, running his fingers through Ryan’s hair, already damp with sweat. 

It feels stupid to feel so liberated, all his hangups tacked onto one word, and something switches and changes. 

Ryan pulls out and kneels in front of him, breathing hard. Shane feels too open and exposed while he looks up at Ryan. 

“Get on your knees.” 

It’s not a suggestion, and Shane doesn’t take it as one, turning over and propping himself up with his hands. 

When Ryan grips his hips and slides home, Shane doesn’t bother muffling the loud groan, fingers scraping over the bunched blankets underneath him. Ryan’s hand is heavy against the small of his back, pushing down, forcing the curve of Shane’s spine. Shane submits to it, let’s his body become pliant so Ryan can do whatever he wants to him. 

Shane shoves his face into the crook of his elbow, lives in the moment of the heady, dizzying slide of Ryan inside of him, the strength of his hands at his hips, listening to the rhythmic sound of their skin smacking together steadily, quick, quick, quick. His toes ache from how hard he curls them. His knees burn from scraping fabric. Shane revels in a high, achieved only by being pleased so thoroughly. 

His whole body feels _on_ , nerves shot and shredded. It’s incredible, how good it feels to be so full, to be so _connected_. 

“You take my cock so well, baby. You’re so good for me,” Ryan says, between his own grunting, his own moans, crowding over Shane’s back and crossing an arm around Shane’s chest, fingernails mean when they dig into Shane’s skin. Ryan’s mouth burns along the nape of his neck, just behind his ear. “You like being good, don’t you?” 

“God, _yes,_ Ryan, right there,” Shane sobs, reaching back to grab hold of Ryan’s thigh; underneath his touch, he can feel the solid flex of muscle, the burning heat of Ryan’s skin. Shane’s heart hasn’t stopped beating so fast, hammering against his sternum, competing with the quick pace of Ryan’s hips.

Shane hadn’t known he’d been this desperate for praise, but he shifts back against Ryan, as if he can get him any deeper inside of him when it already feels like Ryan has gotten half way up his throat, splitting his body open with each harsh thrust. Now, Ryan grinds against him, settled in deep, making his body shake and shiver, keeping him in a limbo that’s part agony, part euphoria. 

“Ryan, fuck, I’m so close,” Shane breathes, tears dancing along his waterlines, blurring his vision. 

“Good, baby,” Ryan murmurs. “I want you to come.” 

“Take the condom off,” Shane chokes out, heartbeat caught in his throat. 

In the moment that Ryan pulls out and strips himself, Shane feels empty, frantic, but he turns over, lying on his back. He hooks his legs around Ryan’s hips as Ryan pitches forward, picking up a relentless cant after he sinks inside like he’d never stopped in the first place. Shane’s fingers dig into Ryan’s waist. The raw feeling of Ryan inside of him elevates the heat scorching throughout his body; it sits, burning at the base of his spine. 

Ryan hovers over Shane, looking down at him, with bright, clear eyes. “Touch yourself,” he says, mouth parted as he breathes so deep. Shane does what he’s told, arching underneath Ryan when he gets a fist around himself, jerking quick. 

“Come on, baby, let me see you come all over yourself,” Ryan coaxes in a soft voice that betrays the momentum of his hips. 

“Please, please,” Shane begs. 

“Be good for Daddy.” 

Shane doesn’t believe in the afterlife, and yet, he can swear there’s holy light behind his eyelids when he shuts them tight, gasping Ryan’s name as his body trembles through his orgasm, knees shoved into Ryan’s ribs, and Ryan dripping pretty words all over him. 

And then Ryan comes, and Shane has enough sense to open his eyes and watch, pressing his hand low against Ryan’s belly, feeling the way his muscles flex and twitch as he rides it out. It’s almost uncomfortable how wet Shane gets from it, how deep he can feel it, how much he _loves_ it. 

“God you feel so fuckin’ good,” Ryan breathes, pressing his forehead against Shane’s as he leans in, hips rolling into Shane’s.

Shane curls his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and pulls him close when it’s over and Ryan wilts against him, breathing hard over his collarbones. 

“Gotta say,” Shane pants, turning to look at Ryan after he’s flopped onto his back. “The feeling of your balls hitting my ass when you come was _different_.” 

“I can’t believe you would just come into my house and say something so crass,” Ryan wheezes, grinning big and bright, on the outside edges of his high. 

“Oh, so Daddy is fine, but I can’t talk about your balls?” Shane mutters, smiling to himself. 

“Talk about whatever you want. I need a shower and a nap.” Ryan stretches at his side and Shane looks over at him, admires the naked length of his sated body before glancing at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, I should go.”

“If you want,” Ryan says, setting a hand on Shane’s shoulder, “but I’m not kicking you out. This is prime cuddle time, Madej.”

Shane hums; clarity mixes with the haziness and all Shane can really do is push himself into Ryan’s space, allow the suspension of his core beliefs of intimacy and let Ryan do something ridiculous like pet his hair. 

It feels good, though, when Ryan’s fingers card through his hair. 

He’s sweaty and sticky, but when he puts his head on Ryan’s chest, there’s the quick, steady beat of his heart underneath him, loud in his ear. 

“I have to admit, getting railed within an inch of my life wasn’t what I came for, but you did not disappoint,” Shane mumbles after a yawn. 

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan asks, stretching out his legs in front of him. Shane watches as he wiggles his toes. 

“Fishing for compliments?” 

“Don’t have to. Not with the way you act when you’re all in it.” 

Shane laughs, curling an arm around Ryan’s stomach, fitting his fingers against the spaces between Ryan’s ribs. There’s a bit of quiet where it’s Shane catching his breath, his heartbeat normalizing, and sleep tugging at his bones. He’s comfortable now, his body so spent from being wound up so tight and subsequently shattered. He feels hollowed out like Ryan has scraped him clean. 

Gently, feather-light, Ryan’s fingers dance along his spine, up and down, steady; Shane isn’t quite ready to be put back together. In this post sex, semi-high haze, he wants to live in this momentary bliss, where Ryan knows what he looks like when he begs. Where they can lay here, unapologetic in their nakedness, unashamed in their smoke-sponsored desire. 

“You gonna tell me about the Daddy thing?” Ryan asks, fingers paused along his shoulder blades. 

“Nope.” 

“What about the ‘being small’ thing?” 

“Nuh uh.” 

“Alrighty.” Ryan slings an arm around Shane’s shoulder rubbing his back. “Are we gonna do this again?” 

“The sex or the cuddling?” Shane yawns, burrowing his face into Ryan’s chest. “Or the, uh, Daddy thing?” 

“All three, I guess.” 

“Kinda figure I’m going to have some Pavlovian response whenever I smoke with you. Not much of a betting man, but I’d wager a bet that this will definitely happen again.” 

Ryan laughs, hearty but gentle, exhausted puffs of breath Shane can feel in his hair. “If we don’t get up, you’re going to regret it.” 

“I’ve slept covered in come before.” 

“You’re _disgusting_ ,” Ryan says, sleepy alarm ringing in his tone. “I meant sleeping on the floor. I don’t want to hear you complain about how you screwed up your back.” 

Shane hums, grinning into Ryan’s chest, kissing overheated flesh, licking over a nipple just to hear Ryan curse. Ryan pinches the back of Shane’s arm. 

“Think you screwed it up for me,” Shane says instead, laughing, even as Ryan makes a disapproving noise, pushing him away. 

“I’m gonna start the shower.” Ryan untangles himself from Shane, but he doesn’t get up. Instead, he puts his hand on Shane’s cheek, thumb swiping over the apple, just underneath his eye. Shane’s breath catches, and his heart lurches in his chest, clumsy, like Ryan’s reached in and knocked it over. 

“I always think I know you,” Ryan whispers. He leans in and kisses Shane. Shane’s eyes flutter closed.

“Now you know me better,” Shane promises, words fitting against Ryan’s lips. 

They share the same satisfied smile when they pull away. 

And just like that, a sentiment, framed with the dark fan of Ryan’s eyelashes, spotlit with the light of his eyes. 

A moment for his museum. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. love u. i'm [here!](https://uneventfulhouses.tumblr.com)


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